


Triumvirate

by cerulean_sin (am_bellanoire)



Series: Sea Three Shanties [3]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Alternating, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/cerulean_sin
Summary: Three equal thirds of a whole. Where one starts, the other begins and so on. Indefinitely. The hatred, the desperation, the rage. And the unspoken love seared into flesh like a brand.





	Triumvirate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrueColours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueColours/gifts).

Three equal thirds of a whole. Where one starts, the other begins and so on. Indefinitely. The hatred, the desperation, the rage. And the unspoken love seared into flesh like a brand. 

Harry fucks you like he hates you. There is always an undercurrent of wrath, a tinge of malice. A hint of madness. As if he has every intention of ending your life right then and there, but will change his mind right before he delivers the final blow. Recklessness. Danger. He has a sinful way of blurring those lines between agony and rapture as he fists your turquoise braids in one hand and sweat dampened blond locks in the other. He growls against the shell of your dark ear, breathing terms of endearment that sound more like threats than affection on a broken rasp. “Ye want more, don't ye, darling? Sea goddess, beloved, tell me ye want more.” And you fight the way your throat seizes against the onslaught, delicious bites of pain at your scalp, to give him the answer he seeks. He is the only one who can make you submit, the only one allowed. And only in moments like this one. He is going to milk it for all it's worth and you cannot wait. "Yes,” you hiss, your voice breathless to near the point of inaudibility. But he hears you and grins in approval, a menacing gnash of teeth that makes your heart rate quicken and your inner thighs throb, before shifting to savagely nip at the pale earlobe of your counterpart. “Yer gonna watch and wait like a good boy, aren't ye?” At the groaned acquiescence his attention is back to you, the blue of his eye already bled to crimson. He bites mercilessly into your fluttering pulse point as if he means to drain you dry while simultaneously burying himself to the hilt in your slick heat. Even as the high pitched whimper is wrenched from your parted lips, you prepare for battle. That's what it always is. Because that's what you need. His pace is a punishing one, it always is, and you rake your nails across his back in retribution. Because that's what he needs.

Gil fucks you like he is starved for oxygen and you are his very last breath. His desperation only rivaled by his strength, fueled by watching you with her. You extract yourself from her, still hard and aching, gently rolling her onto her side. She quivers under your touch, murmuring something under her breath. Probably a threat, despite the way satisfaction makes it more a dulcet promise. You chuckle, brushing weaved turquoise tresses from her face. And then you are tackled from behind, flipped onto your back with enough force to knock the wind out of you. You blink up in surprise at hazel eyes blown with wanton need. He is fed up with waiting and makes that known. His kisses bruise and his hands clutch, choking your body in its grip. And yet you want him to hold you even tighter. His lips trail from yours, lower to your neck, down to your collarbone, to your chest. Lower still over muscles that ripple. The power in his touch overwhelms your senses and you are foundering slowly but surely like a ship run aground. It is too much and not enough at the same time and he turns the tables of that desperation, as effortlessly as he can hoist a hundred pound weight onto his broad shoulder. Now you're the one begging but with your words rather than your touch. “C'mon, stop teasing.” You can hardly recognize your own voice for how guttural it's gone. “Ask me nicely,” is his response, as sweet and beguiling as a butterfly's wing. “Please,” you gasp, your head spinning, your body quaking. “Please what?” The demand concealed as a question hardens his gaze minutely, allowing just the barest hint of villainy to shine through, the part of him you covet the most and your voice rises to a yell, making the body beside you both jerk in protest, “Please Gilly, finish me!” Finally, finally with a happy smile, he engulfs you in his mouth, right where you need him to be, and on your life you would trade your hook to have that moment last for eternity. 

Uma fucks you with the duality of the raging sea and a detached regality. She wields her lithe body like a weapon and does so with such haughty mien, like no matter how many times you shuffle the deck, a black queen will always be dealt first. She binds you, needing your strength subdued, the ropes biting into your flesh, the tightness delightful. Her brown eyes dance with mischief, her lips quirking in a trace of a smirk. And then she crashes onto you, with all the ferocity of a tidal wave, seeking to devour, to level, to destroy. Her teeth bite and her hands grab. Even if you wanted to escape the confines of the bindings, you cannot. You are helpless beneath her, drowning in the surging flood wrought by this oceanic deity. “That's my big, strong boy,” she croons like a siren's song, and she has you utterly in her thrall, “”You can take this, can't you? You can handle this.” And you nod even as your eyes roll back. She grips your jaw, her nails digging into the skin of your cheek, drawing your attention, your blurry vision back to her. “What's my name.” Not a question. A demand, an order. “Uma,” you gasp and she laughs, a dark and wicked sound that makes the blood in your veins rush lower even faster. When she finally deigns to sink down atop you, you cry out, hoarse and needy, so thoroughly rendered senseless that you have no choice but to surrender yourself to be consumed by the sea witch. 

And when it's all said and done, the spell broken, the three of you are reduced to limp limbs and heaving chests. Where sharp nails had scored, tender hands caress, where teeth had bitten, lips now soothe. Your titles slowly slip back into place, the masks removed. Captain. First Mate. Muscle. Eyes grow heavy and bodies shift, the warmth of touch more comforting than any blanket. You tuck yourselves into each other. A turquoise head laid on a pale chest. A brawny arm draped around a dark waist. Calloused fingers buried in blond hair. Where one starts the other begins. Indefinitely. The hatred is tempered, the desperation slackened, the rage calmed. The only thing that remains is the unspoken love seared into flesh like a brand.

**Author's Note:**

> Though I wouldn't consider it overly explicit, this was decidedly filthy (I mean, the mental picture necessary to even pen this out was wild...in a nice, 18+ way lol). I'm quite proud of it to be perfectly honest. Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it!! Feedback would be much appreciated.


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